


it all turns to gold (at the skin of your fingertips)

by heliocities



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Akechi Goro Lives, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, M/M, anyway enjoy this self-indulgent trainwreck, hoo boy, i wrote this a long time ago and never posted it, oh and there’s akeshu if you squint hard enough, so here it is, the akechi redemption fic no one fucking asked for
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-09
Updated: 2018-04-09
Packaged: 2019-04-20 12:39:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,829
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14261160
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heliocities/pseuds/heliocities
Summary: Akechi Goro goes to LeBlanc one last time to make amends and then figure out how to disappear forever. He winds up finding forgiveness and a family of sorts.





	it all turns to gold (at the skin of your fingertips)

The backstreets of Yongen-Jaya are quieter than usual, but the boy twisting his way through them has the loudest mind. If he opens his mouth, it will flow out like rapids and never stop. Nobody hears it. A snap. An explosion on the inside. The telltale signs of his internal timebomb ticking down are starting to fade into his crimson eyes, yet no one stops to make sure he’s okay.

But there is no one.

There never has been.

It’s a rainy afternoon in Shibuya.

He tightens his gloved grip on his briefcase and walks through the rain alone, the water soaking into his shaggy brown hair and the shoulders of his beige peacoat. His eyes are trained on the pavement a few feet ahead of him, head down; a stiff, plastic posture.

He finds his feet taking him to a familiar little café, and he peers through the window. He’s a little upset to see that the only person he wanted to speak with was accompanied by six other people and a small black cat with bright blue eyes. He can hear their muffled chatting despite the pitter-patter of the raindrops. No one notices the broken boy standing on the other side of the glass. A barrier has always separated him from them: of treason and loyalty, truth and lies. Taking a deep breath and exhaling it, he reaches a shaky hand out to the doorknob and grasps it.

Everyone occupying Leblanc stops talking at once as the bell jingles above the doorframe and Akechi Goro stands before them, barely alive and horribly unwell.

Akechi stares in surprise as everyone runs up to him, saying things like “You’re alive?!” and “How did you survive?”. They’re all hugging him. He’s soaking wet and they’re all glad to see their friend, their acquaintance, their fellow Phantom Thief, living and breathing.

Except it’s the opposite. It’s his cognition. They’ve turned into rocks of flesh, still and silent, looks of resentment and frustration painted on their faces. An aggressive purr rises in Morgana’s throat as he unsheathes his claws and digs them into the leather barstool. Sakamoto seems too angry to speak; in a normal situation, he’d be yelling at Akechi, spitting profane words left and right. Their eyes bore into their drinks. _“Akechi’s alive. Akechi should be dead. Why isn’t Akechi dead?”_

Both the Phantom Thieves and Akechi have the same thoughts.

Akechi shuts the rattling door behind him and looks up toward the television in the corner. The newscaster is talking about his disappearance with the headline _**ACE DETECTIVE AKECHI GORO GONE MISSING.**_ A picture of him is displayed on the screen, and it glares back at him, judging him.

It’s the girl with curly blonde pigtails who breaks the rainy silence. “Why are you here?” Takamaki Ann asks in a confusing tone for Akechi, not quite anger but neither is it anguish. Her aquamarine eyes pierce him like an arrow.

“The authorities are searching for you,” says the blue-haired boy, also known as Kitagawa Yusuke.

The detective clenches his fists. “I’m--” His voice comes out hoarse, and he coughs to clear his throat. He hasn’t spoken to anyone in days. “I know,” he tries again, looking at no one in particular. He remembers Takamaki’s question. “I came to apologize to you all, for everything that happened in the Palace,” his voice cracks at the mention of his father’s corrupt heart. He’s close to falling apart. “Palaces,” Akechi corrects himself promptly, remembering how he sold out and “killed” the leader of the Phantom Thieves in the casino. “Palaces,” he repeats again, looking at Okumura Haru and replaying the moment of regret of when he killed her father. She only looks away with a scowl and brushes her bushy strawberry blonde hair out of her face. Akechi swallows. “I wish I could take it all back, but I can’t change anything.”

The brunette boy takes a seat in a booth by himself, not missing the way some of them squirm upon his getting closer to them. He doesn’t say anything; he’s used to it.

Akechi sets his briefcase next to him on the leather seat and rests his elbows on the table. The more he thinks, the closer he comes to the edge. He can feel everyone’s eyes on him. He tucks his forehead down into his palms, his fingers raking up into his bangs. He’s thinking. He’s shaking. He’s a balloon, being filled with air and stretched to the max, exceeding its capacity until it can’t go on anymore-

_Pop._

And Akechi Goro’s face begins to resemble the weather outdoors.

It’s a rainy afternoon in Shibuya.

He presses the heels of his palms into his eyes, an effort to stop the shaky sobs he’s letting out. Nobody has seen him do this. He’s not supposed to do this. Akechi gasps for air, albeit it’s more a cry of desperation. He digs his fingernails into his scalp and bares his teeth at the destructive people clouding his brain. When Akechi opens his mouth, he knows it’s game over. Everyone’s going to know everything. Leblanc is wiretapped. They’re going to turn him in to the police and put him behind actual prison bars, although it doesn’t really make a difference to Akechi. What more does he have to lose? He tries to regain his composure at least a little bit so that he can speak, but it doesn’t work. It never falls in his favor. He turns his fingers into fists, an iron grip on his damp hair. The brownish haze he saw with closed eyes begins to drift away and replace itself with the wood of the café table and the loud colors of everyone in his peripherals.

They’re all staring at him. The gears and cogs turn in everyone’s heads as piece by piece of the puzzle is put together for them. They remember that Akechi didn’t have the happiest life. They realize that he needed to drop his façade of what happens on television. He has no one to turn to. Everyone looks at each other, nonverbally questioning what they should do about the detective prince. No one has an idea, except the leader. Everyone’s gazes follow behind him as he walks toward Akechi.

This isn’t what he planned. He was supposed to come here to apologize to them and leave. But he was lying to himself. He needed someone to confide in who wouldn’t share his secrets. Someone, not Someone with six other people and a cat. And yet, his body involuntarily controlled his legs to walk further into the café and sit down. One hand uncurls itself from his hair and reaches for his briefcase, ready to leave this pointless errand. A hand rests itself on Akechi’s shoulder. He wipes his eyes with his forearm and looks up to see who touched him.

Someone. 

Kurusu Akira.

The bespectacled boy looks down on the broken one, gray eyes compassionate and kind. He and Akechi relate, committing crimes they weren’t responsible for. Kurusu reaches out a hand to him. Akechi looks a bit shocked. Why would someone forgive him for “killing” him and then backstabbing him? The brunette slides an inch further into the booth, cowering away from the leader’s offer. He puts a hand up, begging Kurusu not to touch him. “K-Kurusu-san, please don’t come near me,” Akechi pleads with teary maroon eyes.

But it’s different. Akechi wants to take Kurusu’s hand more than anything right now, to forgive and forget what he’d done to him. He won’t let himself. It’s as if everything he touches turns to gold. Everyone thinks he has everything, but he still needs more. Dionysus stands before him in the form of an average schoolboy. He needs to revert this. He needs to plead him to take this guilt and shame bottled up inside him away.

Kurusu’s fingers fold up in two quick motions, beckoning the detective to take his hand. Akechi scans over the group; their faces ask Kurusu what the hell he’s doing and thank him for doing what they want to do but can’t bring themselves to. Only Kurusu is brave enough and only Kurusu is kind enough. Akechi looks back up to him and lifts a gloved black hand into his. Kurusu curls his finger and thumb around the brunette’s hand and squeezes it, the highest sense of security Akechi has felt in a long time. He winces at the gesture as he rises to his feet, but doesn’t let go. A cold sensation cruises down his spine.

Akechi doesn’t know what he’s doing, but next thing he knows, he’s embracing Kurusu. His arms are bent under the ravenette’s, hands in a supinated grip on his broad shoulders. He knows that the other boy is uncomfortable with it, but Akechi clings to him like his lifeline. To his surprise, Kurusu lifts his arms and wraps them around Akechi’s thin frame, his hands pressing against his shoulderblades and bringing Akechi closer to his body. The brunette is a bit shocked that his gesture was returned. He hasn't been genuinely hugged since who-knows-when. Maybe never. The only hugs he gets are quick ones from obsessive schoolgirls, infatuated with the charismatic idol detective.

But it’s different with Kurusu. It’s comforting and it isn't fake. Akechi buries his head into the crook of Kurusu’s neck, warm tears dotting his eyes and soaking into his shirt. The boy with glasses moves his hand to the back of Akechi’s head. Kurusu knows what it’s like to not have anyone to depend on. When someone has a problem, they go to Kurusu Akira. It’s basic knowledge.

Akechi doesn't get embarrassed until it registers in his head that there are other people with them in the tiny café. He wriggles himself out of the ravenette’s strong embrace and wipes his eyes with the cuff of his sleeve. “Ah, sorry,” he chokes out, turning to the others. They’ve all felt what he’s feeling now. They know.

“You don’t need to apologize for anything,” Kurusu finally speaks, putting his hand on Akechi’s shoulder and guiding him toward the rest of the group. The dejected boy slides into the booth next to Sakura’s daughter. The redheaded girl begins to rub Akechi’s back as Kurusu sits down on the outside. Akechi stares into his lap, too humiliated to look at anyone. From across the hacker, Prosecutor Niijima’s sister gently pushes her steaming cup toward Akechi. “Here,” she says, “Tea. Don’t worry, I haven’t taken a sip yet.” Akechi looks up at the other red-eyed person in the room. He takes the tea cautiously and sips it. “Thank you, N-Niijima-san,” he stammers breathlessly.

She smiles warmly at him. “Please, call me Makoto,” she says.

Kurusu chimes in adamantly. “Call us all by our first names, it’s okay… Goro.” Akechi wants to sob again. It’s always Akechi Goro, or just Akechi, never just Goro. But now it is. He squeezes his eyes shut as fast as he can. He can’t let every little thing make him sentimental; otherwise he’ll never have dry eyes again. He nods.

“M-May I talk to you all? About… everything that’s happened to us?” Akechi asks, his voice still wavering slightly. Everyone collectively nods and gives affirmative grunts. “Let it all out if you have to. Your secrets are safe with us,” Ann beams. Akechi nods again and turns to his left. “Um…”

“Futaba,” the redhead reminds Akechi of her name.

“Futaba-san,” Akechi parrots her, looking into her mauve eyes. She looks away uncomfortably. “I know that this is late, but-” Akechi sniffles. “I’m sorry about what I did to your mother. It was rash and reckless. I was being controlled by my father and my own selfish ambition to live up to what he expected of me.” He pauses to catch up with his thoughts. “I can’t go back in time, so the only thing I can do… is apologize.”

Futaba hesitates to speak as she pushes her round black glasses up her nose. “It’s fine, Goro-san. You didn’t know any better back then.” She takes a sip of her coffee, and Akechi notices that she sits like a bird perched on a branch. Has she always been like that? “But I know what it feels like to have no mother. I know what it feels like to think everyone hates you.” She gently puts a hand on Akechi’s knee. “But you aren’t alone. You’re never alone.” Akechi looks away from the hacker and across Akira to Haru.

He opens his mouth to speak, but Haru beats him. “Goro-kun,” she addresses. “I already know what you’re going to say, so I’m going to say it for you so you don’t have to.” She clasps her hands and sighs. “In Shido’s Palace, I said that I will never be able to forgive you for killing my father. But I’ve decided that I can.” She takes one of Akechi’s hands in her own and looks into his eyes, the whites a few shades lighter than the irises. He winces, unable to properly accept the amount of physical contact he’s received today. “I don’t want to let that anger in me fester and ferment into distorted desires. And I can sympathize with you. I’d always felt like my father was using me too, like I was just some object to be married off and toyed with.” Haru squeezes his hand reassuringly before letting go. “It’s okay. Don’t worry about it, Goro-kun.”

Akechi just nods in awe. He thought Haru would never forgive him, but he was too quick to judge her kindness. “T-Thank you, Oku- um, Haru-san,” he chokes up, and Futaba’s quick to rub his back again.

The detective turns to his right. “Akira-san,” he almost calls the ravenette by his last name but catches himself. “I-I… I really don’t know what to say to you. An apology won’t fix a murderous intent.” He stops before the spills the ocean onto the frizzy-haired boy.

Akira gives Akechi a warm smile. “Don’t worry about it, Goro-kun. It’s in the past.”

Akechi returns to his staring contest with the table. “But I want to _change_ the past, not _forget_ about it,” he protests immaturely. 

“You can’t change or forget the past, but you can learn from its mistakes,” Akira says, like he’s quoting some famous novel. “Everybody screws up, Goro-kun. We just have to accept that we’re in the present and we can’t change how things are.”

Akechi silently takes Akira’s advice. He scans the café again. “Uh, I… I don’t mean to sound impolite or anything, but… I don’t have any major apologies for the rest of you. But I do want to say that I’m sorry for blackmailing you into letting me steal Sae-san’s heart with you,” he rambles, pausing to look at Makoto when he mentions her sister’s name. “We don’t have to be friends, and you don’t have to forgive me. But I just wanted to talk to you all one last time before you never have to see my face again.”

“‘Never have to see your face again’?” Morgana pipes up, and for a second the brunette forgets that the cat can talk. “Where do you plan on going? Everyone knows your face like the backs of their hands.”

Akechi gulps. “I’ll-I’ll figure something out.”

“It’s impossible, dude,” Ryuji says from his barstool. “There’s nowhere to run.” Ann elbows him in the ribs, causing him to slip a curse. “Shut up, Ryuji, don’t say something so ominous!” she hisses at him. “Aw c’mon, you gotta admit that sounded _kinda cool!”_ the other blonde persists. Akechi finds amusement in their bickering and grins for the first time in a long time.

“Hey look, you two imbeciles made Goro-kun smile!” the ginger exclaims from Akechi’s left. He notes the change in honorifics.

“You wanna say that again, pipsqueak?!” the blonde boy chides playfully.

Akechi feels a weight on his shoulder. “Eep!” the youngest Phantom Thief lets out a high-pitched noise, clinging both of her arms around Akechi’s one. He laughs halfheartedly.

“Goro-san, would you like to stay here for the time being? The rain doesn’t seem to be letting up, and we’d enjoy your company,” Makoto offers politely.

Yusuke agrees with a nod. “‘The more, the merrier’, is that not what they say?”

Akechi’s smile gets bigger. “Of course I’d love to stay, I mean, if it’s alright with Sakura-san.”

“Pfft, Sojiro doesn’t care who comes in unless they cause him trouble,” Futaba comments.

The detective nods. “Alright, I guess I could stay for a bit.” He finally notices how his right shoulder is touching Akira’s, but he doesn’t move. Past archenemies enjoying each other’s company. _What a strange concept,_ Akechi thinks. He decides to save the rest of his sob story for another time.

And for the first time in his life, Akechi Goro thinks that he’s finally found a place he belongs, relieved of his golden touch.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading!


End file.
